Ponine
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: AU. What if Eponine had the chance to become a fine lady, like Cosette?
1. Chapter 1

Les Miserables belongs to the public domain.

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The little girl was seven, perhaps eight, and quite small. She knew it, too. Her pale face was too pointed at the chin, her nose was too snubbed, her eyes too startlingly bright. The slim, childish build of her body did not match the old look in her eyes, or the bruise on her cheek. She was old enough to know that now was a good time to hide, and young enough to hide under the safety of the wooden table.

"My good ladies," her father fawned. "I do apologize for the sorry state of my inn…"

The oldest of the three women sniffed. " 'Sorry' is putting it mildly, Monsiuer…Monsieur…"

"Thenardier, Monsieur Thenardier," he said. "Please, Mesdames, take a seat, and I'll have my honorable wife make something good and hot for you to eat." He bowed and left them.

The little girl huddled under the table, gripping her knees to stay out of the reach of the fine ladies' skirts. Wide-eyed and breathless she listened to them talk.

"I never would imagine our carriage would lose a wheel," the middle of the women sighed. "Now we're trapped. We'll never get to Paris in time."

"Oh, now don't be so pessimistic," the youngest said gaily. "We'll be there for your darling Andre's party, don't worry." She crossed her ankles; the little girl scooted farther back. A faint cry started, and the little girl winced as she realized that her small brother was alone. He would cry for her, and would stop only if she came, or…

"Shut up!" Madame Thenardier howled. There was a loud thump, and a tiny whimper. "Eponine was supposed to watch you, you brat…Eponine! Where's the bloody girl? Too bad we sold off the Lark…Azelma! Where is Eponine?"

"Eponine?" the middle woman whispered. "What an odd name."

"I think it's charming," the youngest said.

Madame Thenardier clanged into the main dining hall. "My good Mesdames," she said, spreading her generously large skirts in a curtsy. "Your food will be out in just a moment. My husband is fixing your broken wheel hi'self as well."

"We thank you," the oldest woman said stiffly.

"Who is Eponine?" the youngest girl inquired. The little girl jumped back as a finely made boot connected with the youngest girl's ankle. "Ouch!"

Madame Thenardier was visibly flustered. "Our…our maid, Mesdames," she said. "Our little maid. She's ill, you see, but we give her the work to pay for her doctor bills."

"A sick child should not be made to work at an inn like this!" the oldest woman said, horrified.

"Of course not, but in circumstances like this, m'dear lady, it must be overlooked," Madame Thenardier said, attempting to smooth things over.

"But where is this sick little girl?" the youngest persisted. "I'd like to meet her."

"Most likely gone to take a little sleep, the poor lamb…" Madame Thenardier sighed deeply.

The ruse would have worked, had not a tiny boy toddled into the room. "Maman, want my 'Ponine!" he wailed. Big tears made his blue eyes looked glossy. "My 'Ponine!"

"Oh, the darling child!" the middle woman exclaimed. Madame Thenardier looked like she couldn't decide whether to slap the toddler or hug him.

The little boy made a beeline for the table. "'Ponine!" he exclaimed joyfully, hurtling into her arms. "Me found 'Ponine!"

The youngest peeked under the table. The little girl drew back, eyes wide, as she was met with a round, smiling face. "I do believe I've found someone," she said. "Come out, child, we won't hurt you."

Shaking, the little girl crawled out from under the table, her small brother clutching at her thin, short skirts. She stared up at the three unfamiliar faces, unable to speak. Her hand scrabbled for the warm reassurance of her brother's tiny hand.

"Tell us, child, what's your name?" the oldest woman asked. She was between fifty and sixty years of age, dressed like a rich dowager.

"Ep'nine," she rasped. "Ep'nine Thenardier."

The middle woman started and looked at Madame. "Thenardier? A relation?" she asked. She was most likely in her mid-twenties, slim and brunette, but not strikingly pretty.

"She's an orphan. We gave her our name to give her a sense of family," Madame lied smoothly, glaring at her young daughter.

The youngest girl smiled and held out her hands to Eponine. She was not yet twenty, blonde and full of life. Eponine took the smooth gloved hands, knowing full well her small ones were red and rough and chapped. "Haven't you any mother, pet?" she asked.

Eponine darted a swift glance at the Thenardieress. She shook her frowzy head. "None, mam'zelle," she said.

"Poor cherie," the young miss clucked. "Tante Mathilde, can't we take her with us? She is so young." She framed Eponine's sharply pointed chin in her slender fingers, tilting her head. "And she will be a beauty when she is grown."

Tante Mathilde, the oldest woman, sighed heavily. "Aurelie, you can't simply take an orphan child like that," she said.

"No, no, she's right, Tante Mathilde," the middle woman spoke up. Tante Mathilde raised an eyebrow. She shrank back. "I simply meant, Tante, that we can't leave the sick little girl here."

"Well, if quiet little Geraldine speaks up, it must be important." Tante Mathilde beckoned to Eponine. "What can you do, girl?" she asked.

Eponine cleared her throat. "I'm good at laundry, madame," she said. Tante Mathilde looked half-horrified, half-amused.

"Oh, she's just a little girl yet," Aurelie defended. "Besides, she's good with children. Look at the way the darling baby clings to her."

Tante Mathilde turned to Madame Thenardier. "We shall take the little girl off your hands," she said. The hostess was too shocked to say anything.

"Mesdames, your carriage has been mended," Thenardier said, bowing gallantly as he entered. "Now, that'll be two hundred francs for my workmanship, plus five hundred for the wheel…" He stopped. "What is it, wife?"

"They want Eponine," Madame said, still stunned.

Thenardier thought fast. "The little darling?" he gasped, grabbing his daughter and hugging her close. Eponine tried not to breathe; her father reeked of cheap wine. "Our precious angel of mercy and light? Mesdames, I am shocked!"

"Let us…borrow her, then!" Aurelie said. "We want to give her a good schooling, turn her out to be a fine lady."

Eponine could practically see the rusty cogs turning in her father's head. "A fine lady, eh?" he mused. "Our sweetling? But how will we do without our skylark's work?"

"We'll pay you handsomely," Geraldine pleaded.

This was Thenardier's language. "How much?"

Tante Mathilde reached into her elegant bag and pulled out two thousand franc notes. "Here is money enough for the wheel and the child," she said. "Now we shall be off. Geraldine, Aurelie, Eponine, come along." She stood, the deep burgundy silks of her dress swishing against the rough wood of the bench. Aurelie giggled and took Eponine's hand. The little girl could feel a smile cracking at the corners of her pale lips as she was led to the door.

"'Ponine?" the toddler quavered. "Where my 'Ponine go?"

Thenardier lifted his scrawny son onto his hip. "She's going to be a fine lady. Won't that be lovely? You'll be the brother of a grand Parisienne lady."

But promises of faraway grandeur and splendor do nothing to help the ache of a child's heart. Eponine turned at the door, stretching out her small hand. The father and mother did not want her, but the little boy wailed as his sister disappeared through the doorway.

Azelma limped into the room. "I couldn't find 'Ponine, Papa. Where is she?" she asked.

"Who gives a flip?" Thenardier answered, riffling through the stack of francs.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit fictionpress(DOT)com/celizabethnicholas for more.


	2. Chapter 2

Les Miserables belongs to the public domain.

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Eponine clutched her hands together, wringing them anxiously. The carriage bounced over a rut, and she drew her knees together, trying to keep her short dirty skirts from muddying the fine dresses of the ladies. She shivered.

"Oh, the poor thing's cold," Aurélie said.

Geraldine reached behind the seat and pulled out a blanket. "Here, darling, take this," she said, draping it around her.

Eponine kicked it away. "Can't," she said. "I'll get it dirty."

"It can be washed," Tante Mathilde said firmly, and she tucked it around her. Eponine sank into the thick warmth. "Now, I suppose we'd best get her something else to wear, and get her cleaned up for the party. Where shall we get something on such short notice?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's something we can find," Aurélie said, stretching her arms above her head. "Oh, she'll look so darling in pale blue, don't you think? Or red, maybe."

Geraldine looked over at her younger sister. "Let's go with something warm and sensible," she said.

"And pretty," Aurélie added.

Tante Mathilde tugged on her gloves. "There's a shop on the Rue de l'Oiseau," she said. "They sell ready-made clothes. We can purchase a gown for the party, and then have her fitted out for a whole wardrobe."

Geraldine hugged Eponine gently. "Won't this be exciting?" she said. Eponine nodded. Truth be told, she was more nervous than excited. Away from home, without her parents or her sister or her brother. It was frightening.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit fictionpress(DOT)com/celizabethnicholas for more.


	3. Author's Note

Just to clear everything up, I have every intention of finishing this story. I have the outline, I just don't have the time or the creative energy. I haven't updated in a while because I was preparing to graduate from college, I'm planning my wedding, and I'm heavily involved in theater. Ergo, my updates have been rather sporadic. As I've recently graduated, I have a lot more time on my hands, and "Ponine" was already in my queue to finish.

This author's note has been brought about to dispel the rumor that it's okay to finish this story for me. It is _not _okay to finish someone's story if they have not given their express permission, and especially when the author is clearly still active on the site.

So yes, I will finish the story. There's no need to be rude, demanding, or to try to steal the work. If you are truly curious as to the status of the story, feel free to PM me about it- don't leave a rude review about how someone really ought to do my work for me.

Sincerely, Caitlin (aka Keitorin Asthore)


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